


Space Dads' Night Out

by Longpig



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alteans are Magical Creatures, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dream Daddy in Space, Drunk Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Male Bonding, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Bottom Coran, The Porn Is the Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: Being the only grown-up on a ship (or base) full of youngsters can be trying at times. Coran and Kolivan decide to take some adult time, and get to know each other better.





	Space Dads' Night Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/gifts).



> This fic was loosely inspired by Dream Daddy and I make no apologies for that. :v

The cryopods hadn’t looked so spotless in over ten thousand years, but that didn’t stop Coran from giving them another going over with his buffing cloth. Oh, certainly he could see his reflection in their glassy surfaces, but he was not satisfied. He kept on polishing, wiping away half-imagined smudges and smears the way he wished he could wipe the smirk off Lance’s face sometimes. Oh dear, but that boy had tried his patience today. The gall! The temerity! The utter  _ imprudence! _ It was enough to drive a man to wuksnats. It had all started this morning when he had discovered  _ yet another _ of Lance’s half-eaten snacks, discarded on the observation deck. The Blue Paladin could protest innocence all he liked, but Coran knew perfectly well that he was the _ only _ one who ate those terrible salted floxon fruits! Before that it was bags of crisps in the lounge, a spilt pouch of space juice left unmopped on the training deck, a bowl of nutritional gel  _ under the table in the dining hall-- _ really, was the lad raised in a  _ barn? _ And when Coran had told him in no uncertain terms that that was how you got space ants, he’d laughed-- _ laughed! _

_ "Space ants? That’s a thing? Man, I always wanted one of those ant farms…” _

The very  _ idea!!  _ Why, anyone who’d spent more than a decaphoeb in space ought to know that such a chitinous calamity was no topic for jocularity! Out of all the Paladins, Coran had a special fondness for Lance; but sometimes, oh, sometimes…

“That boy…” he muttered to himself, angrily giving the control panel another swipe with his cloth.

“What boy?”

Coran fairly jumped out of his skin. “Quiznak!” He whirled around, clutching at his chest, quite certain, for at least half a tick, that his heart had stopped and he was indeed deceased. He took a few breaths to confirm that he still  _ could _ breathe, and then realized who it was that had caused his near-demise: Kolivan. Of course; the Blades and the Paladins were meant to have a joint training exercise today. He’d been so absorbed in his rage-cleaning that he hadn’t heard him approach.

“Is something amiss?” He frowned slightly-- well, slightly more than usual. Coran supposed that his dour demeanour went with the whole ‘leader of a mysterious spy-slash-resistance organization’ package.

“No, no, of course not!” he laughed nervously. “Just stubborn grease spots, you know how it is!” He suspected that Kolivan did not, in fact know how it was; but it was too late now.

Kolivan looked him over dubiously. “You seem distressed,” he said after a moment. “As a more”--he cleared his throat awkwardly--”mature figure on a team, the burden of responsibility can be heavy. If you wish to talk about it…” He left the unspoken invitation hanging in the air. Empathy was not something Coran had necessarily expected from the laconic leader of the Blade of Marmora, but when he thought about it, it did make sense. Although Coran wouldn’t call himself the commander of the Voltron team, he was an advisor and mentor to the young Paladins, set apart from them by age and maturity just as Kolivan was.

It was lonely, being the only adult on a ship full of youngsters. Even Shiro, the oldest of his human charges, was still practically a child. He hadn’t been quite the same since returning to the castle ship anyway -- still recovering from his ordeals, Coran reckoned. He felt a duty to be strong for them, to push down his own worries and insecurities beneath a cheerful, insouciant demeanour. It wasn’t that he was unhappy; far from it. But he did sometimes wish that there were someone he could talk to without having to be ‘on’ all the time.

“Just a difficult morning,” Coran sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “With all this running around after Lotor, my patience is a bit frayed; and Lance --ah that is to say, the Paladins -- can be quite a handful!” Kolivan nodded, which he took as encouragement to continue. “I have to keep hounding them like a mother yalmore about leaving food out all over the ship! How many times do I have to tell them that’s how you get space ants?” He threw up his hands, exasperated.

“Space… ants.” Kolivan repeated.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, vindicated. “Oh, I remember all too well the last time we had to battle an infestation. We lost two good men that day…” He shuddered, repressing the unpalatable memory.

Kolivan nodded sympathetically. “Your Paladins are still very young. In time, they will learn to conduct themselves with greater restraint.”

“What about you,” Coran wondered aloud, curiosity overriding etiquette. “Do you have to deal with similar frustrations among your Blades?”

Kolivan made a contemplative rumbling sound deep in his chest. “Of course, I strive to maintain discipline… But there  _ was _ an incident a movement ago where it was discovered that some of the initiates had been stealing weapon oil and using it as a pomade for their fur. I still do not understand,” he frowned, shaking his head. “We wear masks. Nobody  _ sees _ their fur.”

Coran gave a sympathetic chuckle, then sighed. “Well, good to know I’m not alone! You’re right; it certainly is refreshing to have a conversation with another adult! You know”--he tugged thoughtfully at his mustache--”as the patriarchs of our respective teams, it’s really a shame we don’t know each other better.” Kolivan quirked the tiniest smile; it was possibly the first such expression Coran had seen on his face. “Perhaps we ought to rectify that!”

Kolivan raised his brow ridges. “You have my interest.”

“Well, I’m fairly certain Shiro can handle running the training exercise on our end,” Coran said, with a conspirator’s wink. “Surely you have someone among your Blades who could do the same? Just for the duration of a little outing?”

“Perhaps Citell,” Kolivan mused, stroking his chin. The hint of a smile grew into a wily grin. “What do you propose?”

“Well, what do you fancy?” He tried to throw a companionable arm around Kolivan’s shoulder, realized that the size difference made this impossible, and settled for leaning on his arm instead. “Ludwiqs? Fishing for grivots? Oh!”--he snapped his fingers, flashing a sly grin--”I’ve got it. The Game! It’s been a tradition in male bonding for millennia!”

There was, in Coran’s modest opinion, no better place in the Universe to watch the Game than the Fripping Bulgogian. The nunvillery had been in business for over ten thousand years for a reason, after all. A few of the patrons sent up rumbles of discontent when they walked in, clearly unenthused about having a Galra in their midst, but a sharp growl from the large, armored proprietor seemed to silence their objections. Kythylian Mu was an old friend.

“Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man,” he smiled with a friendly twitch of his snout, and clapped him on the shoulder with a massive paw. “I’ll get yer usual table ready.” He turned to where a couple of Trivelians were nursing their brews. “HEY,” he bellowed, “BEAT IT!” The pair scurried off to the bar instead, the colour drained from their antennae. Kythylian chuckled under his breath. “So, who’s yer friend?” he asked, as they settled into the still-warm chairs.

“Oh, how terribly rude of me,” Coran exclaimed, turning to his companion. “Kythylian Mu, this is Kolivan. And if you can keep it under your hat”--he lowered his voice to a clandestine whisper and shielded his lips with his hand just in case--”he’s the leader of the Blade of Marmora.”

The Mu’s yellow eyes widened. “That so? I’ve heard stories, but…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kolivan said politely.

“The honor’s mine,” he rumbled, with a tip of his head. “First round’s on me, lads,” he called back over his shoulder as he headed toward the bar.

Kolivan looked around the room, wary but curious. “Coran, where will this Game take place? I see no playing field, no arena…”

“Oho! Feast your eyes, my friend.” He pointed upward, to where several large monitors hung from the ceiling, displaying the sporting event of the day. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what they were playing, but that was a trivial detail. It was The Game.

Kolivan frowned. “But why come here to watch it? Could we not have gone to where they are competing to see it in person?”

“Ah, but watching the Game at the Fripping Bulgogian has always been something of a tradition among the men--and women--of team Voltron! And it’s more about the company than the sport. What’s more, all those cameras broadcasting The Game might give us away to the Empire, and we wouldn’t want that!”

“Hm,” Kolivan grunted. “Very sensible.”

“That’s right,” he reaffirmed, “and, besides, those ticket prices are highway robbery. Oh look, here come our drinks.” He passed one of the cups to Kolivan, and held up his own. “Cheers!”

Kolivan watched the screens with rapt attention, trying to follow the action, but it took a couple glasses of nunvill before he really got into the spirit of the game. “That one has kicked the ball. Now the other fellow has it. I believe he is going to kick it. OH, YES HE HAS; HE HAS KICKED IT MOST ADMIRABLY!” Kolivan grabbed Coran’s shoulder in his excitement, and banged his other fist on the table. Coran grinned in amusement, and cheered along with him. There were, perhaps, some subtleties Kolivan was missing; but the important thing was that he was enjoying himself. For his part, Coran hadn’t felt this relaxed since--well, certainly since before Shiro had disappeared. Everything was going swimmingly until he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder, and a thick wave of perfume buffeted him.

“Hey there, sailor. Long time no see.” Another of the Mu stood over him; Kythylian’s sister, Kynithra. Her scales were a deep gold where her brother’s were blue, and she was draped in shimmering, colourful fabrics. She leaned over his shoulder, purring in his ear while he tried valiantly not to look down her décolleté. A flush crept up under his collar. He’d quite forgotten about the little crush she’d had on him back in the day, but apparently her memory was sharper. “Buy a girl a drink?” she cooed.

“Well, ah…” He cast his eyes around the room, looking to the bar for possible backup from Kythylian, but he just shook his head and snickered. Coran saw him direct the barkeep to send over another round of nunvill; probably by way of an apology. “I don’t want to seem ungentlemanly, but--”

“He’s with me,” Kolivan growled, and put his arm around him. Coran’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, but he went with it.

“Er, yes, that’s right!” He grinned up at Kynithra, patting Kolivan’s clawed hand affectionately.

She was, alas, undeterred. “With you, or  _ with you _ -with you?” She leaned closer.

“Ah, haha, we’re very happy together!” He shrank away from her, pressing against Kolivan.

“You don’t seem too sure, honey.” She winked suggestively.

He was still trying to think of a clever, yet off-putting answer when Kolivan picked him up, sat him on his lap, and kissed him full on the mouth. It took him a tick to process what was happening, but then shock gave way to understanding and gratitude.  _ Time to put on a good show, old boy! _ Coran reached up and ran his fingers through the thick fur at the base of Kolivan’s ears. He made a short sort of purring noise, and Coran felt a shiver of excitement as his rough tongue rasped against his own.

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint,” Kynthira muttered irritably. “Ugh, get a room.” When they pulled apart, she’d already set her sights on another mark.

This was probably the point, he would later reflect, where things started to get a bit out of control. They both had a good laugh over their little performance, and then it was sort of a joke to keep pretending to be a couple, until somehow the playful kisses and banter had turned into Coran sitting on Kolivan’s lap again with his tongue down his throat. His head was buzzing from the nunvill and the excitement, and it was all a bit of a blur as they stumbled to the rooms upstairs, pawing at each other like adolescents. Kolivan pushed him up against the wall while he scrabbled with the key, nibbling at his neck and ear. Coran felt Kolivan’s erection press against his spine through the layers of their clothing, and hurried to turn the key to its correct orientation and slide it into the door. It had been a long time--cryosleep notwithstanding--since he’d fraternized with a Galra, and he’d forgotten how frisky they could get. Actually, he reflected, it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone; and he could use a good, hard, fraternization...

Almost as soon as the door closed behind them, Kolivan picked him up and pinned him against the wall with his powerful body, kissing him roughly while he raked his claws through his hair. It was a trifle undignified, what with his feet dangling in the air, but Coran couldn’t say that he minded. He let his fingers wander across Kolivan’s muscular chest, then slipped a hand down to his waist to undo his belt.

Kolivan lowered him carefully to the floor, then stepped back, leaving Coran panting. WIth one smooth motion, he pulled off his tabard, revealing the tight bodysuit he wore underneath, and the magnificent bulge between his legs. Coran licked his lips, his own cock straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Are we quite sure we want to be doing this?,” he asked, breathless, even as he peeled off his gloves and pulled down the slide fastener of his jacket.

“You said we ought to get to know each other better,” Kolivan shrugged. He undid the clasps on his bracers, tossing them to the floor.

“Fair enough!” He kicked off his boots, and stripped down to just his shorts before he noticed that Kolivan was just standing there, still half-dressed, staring at him. “Hrm? Have I got something in my mustache? Miss a spot shaving?” He looked down at himself, but no, everything seemed to be neat and tidy--he prided himself on fastidious grooming, even in places usually left unseen.

“Your markings,” he said, with a soft rumble in his voice.  _ Ah, of course! _ He’d only ever met two Alteans, let alone seen one in the altogether. “They are quite striking.” Kolivan traced the back of a claw over the pale turquoise line that ran along his collarbone. Coran shivered, his skin tingling at the touch.

“They’re also quite sensitive,” he breathed, not quite able to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Oh--!” He gasped as Kolivan rubbed his thumb over the crescent mark under his nipple.

“Is that so?” He huffed a low chuckle. He carefully drew a claw down one of the blue tracings contouring Coran’s hipbones, while his other hand continued to massage the marks on his chest. By the time Kolivan hooked a finger into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down over his hips, he thought his knees might give out. It had been a damnably long time since he’d received this kind of attention. His cock was already painfully hard and dripping, and Kolivan wasn’t even undressed yet. That would have to be rectified, and in short order. He fumbled like a schoolboy at the seam of Kolivan’s suit until he found the fastener, and slipped his hands inside, running his fingers through Kolivan’s fur and pushing the bodysuit down over his shoulders as they moved towards the bed. With Kolivan sitting on the edge of the mattress, it was quick work to get the rest of the suit off, and Coran got his first real look at him.

Most of his fur was that dark slate blue, slashed though here and there by old scars, but his chest and stomach were the same pale silver-grey as his hair and face markings. His physique was nothing short of breathtaking, all lean muscle rippling under the fur. And his cock… Even by Galra standards it was impressive. Coran reckoned it was nearly the size of his forearm, tapered at the tip, and ridged at the base and just below the head. He swallowed hard, eyes wide.

“By King Groggery the Infirm,” he murmured in awe. “You’re quite, ah,  _ striking _ yourself!”

Kolivan frowned, looking worried. “Is there a problem with… this?”

“Oh no!” Coran shook his head. “Definitely not.” His mouth watered. This was a challenge he was prepared to face head-on, as it were. He stepped into the V of Kolivan’s legs, and sank to his knees, his eyes still locked on to that magnificent dick. He secreted a generous amount of fluid into his palm, silently thanking the Ancients for the blessings of Altean physiology. He also thanked whoever was listening that his extremely premature bout of the Slipperies hadn’t had any lasting effects -- some unfortunate souls were left completely dried out after they recovered!

He took the base of Kolivan’s shaft in hand, and gently stroked the lower half while he leaned forward to draw his tongue up the toward the tip. Judging from the way he twitched and moaned, it must have been a while for Kolivan as well. Well, the Blades probably didn’t get out any more than he did, Coran supposed. He sucked the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the ridges. Kolivan’s hips jerked, and Coran felt a massive hand on the back of his head, and claws raking through his hair. He took the hint, and swallowed down as much of his length as he could manage, still working the base of Kolivan’s cock with his slicked hand. The glide of his lips over the hot, throbbing flesh was exhilarating, and he moaned around his mouthful as bobbed his head up and down. Kolivan was panting now, huffing and growling in time with Coran’s movements. He brought him just to the edge of release, then let his cock slip from his mouth with a loud, wet pop. He was eager to get to the main event, after all.He got to his feet, straightening out his mustache, and straddled Kolivan’s lap. He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving as Coran slid a hand up to his shoulder.

“That was very stimulating,” Kolivan breathed, almost purring.

“That’s the idea,” Coran chuckled. He reached up and looped Kolivan’s braid around his wrist, and pulled him down into a kiss. Kolivan’s hands caressed and massaged his thighs, inching ever so slowly higher until finally,  _ finally _ he took hold of his cock. Coran moaned into his mouth as he stroked him, and tightened his grip on his hair. Quiznak, it had been so long he’d almost forgotten how good it could feel to be touched like this, to be desired… He wrapped his free hand around Kolivan’s shaft again and resumed his movements there, relishing the slide of skin over skin. Kolivan looped an arm around his waist, and Coran shivered as his hand slid lower, lightly tracing a claw along his cleft, then rubbing the pad of his finger over the pucker of his hole. Coran let more of the slippery fluid drip from the pores in his nether regions, and whimpered with pleasure as Kolivan’s fingers moved more freely over his skin, drawing tight circles around his rim, pushing gently against his entrance, teasing him open.

“How are you doing that?” Kolivan murmured, his breath hot in his ear.

“Call it--call it Altean magic,” he panted. Speech was becoming increasingly difficult with Kolivan prodding more insistently at his ass. He pushed in one finger, then two, stretching his eager hole. Coran gasped, and rocked his hips between Kolivan’s two hands, already wanting more.

“Are you sufficiently prepared?” Kolivan purred, as his huge fingers scissored ever wider, pressing against Coran’s most sensitive regions.

“Quiznak,” he groaned, shuddering. “Yes. Yes!” He whimpered as Kolivan pulled his hand away, leaving him empty and wanting. He hesitated for a tick, perhaps unsure of how best to proceed, until Coran shoved him down onto the bed.

“Another Altean surprise,” he huffed with a grin; he’d been caught off-guard by his strength.

“More to come!” he replied with a saucy wink. He pushed himself up on his knees, and took a moment to enjoy the view: the strapping, handsome Galra warrior laid out before him like a banquet. He took hold of Kolivan’s dripping cock again, and slowly lowered himself down, shuddering with pleasure as the ridges slid across his rim. Ancients, he was already so full, and he’d barely taken half of him! As stretched as he was, this was going to take some maneuvering. He pulled back for a tick, and shifted himself internally -- he might not have been gifted with the knack for flashy shapeshifting like the Princess, but he knew a useful trick or two. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down onto Kolivan’s cock again, sinking unhurriedly onto him until their hips met and he bottomed out.

Kolivan grunted with satisfaction, his eyes drooping shut. He slid his hands up Coran’s thighs and wrapped them around his hips, his thumbs drawing circles in the hollows of his hips. “Amazing,” he purred.

It was, truly. Coran couldn’t remember ever feeling so well-stuffed, shifted or not. He rolled his hips languidly, and moaned at the sensations even this slight movement provoked. It felt as though his innards were being rearranged, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable. Kolivan tightened his grip on his waist, and delivered a series of quick thrusts, forceful enough to make him cry out. Soon he was pounding into him so hard Coran thought he could feel it in his throat. His whole body was buzzing like an activated particle barrier, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. The fantastic slide of that ribbed head over his nerve centers, combined with the way the thicker ridges at the base of Kolivan’s cock rubbed against his stretched entrance, was almost too much for his senses to process. He braced himself against Kolivan’s firm stomach, panting and sweating as Kolivan speared him over and over again. The heat built in the pit of his belly until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He let out an involuntary wail as he came, splattering ribbons of faintly glowing fluid all over himself and Kolivan. This seemed to spur Kolivan on, and he scooped up Coran, still impaled on his cock, and slammed him against the wall, pinning him. Coran clung to him desperately, twisting his fingers in the thick fur on Kolivan’s chest, shaking and gasping for breath, overstimulated to the point of vertigo.

Kolivan increased his pace now, thrusting into him even harder than before, until finally he reached his peak as well, and came with a loud, almost feral growl. Coran felt him twitch inside him, and a rush of heat as he flooded his insides with his release. They sagged against each other, spent and exhausted.

\-----

The flight back to the castle ship was not awkward exactly, but it was certainly quiet. Coran was, rather astonishingly, just too tired to make conversation. He quite fancied a nap after such a strenuous workout, but they were expected back, and he had to fly the shuttle. Kolivan spent the trip gazing out the window, perhaps dozing; he couldn’t be sure. The silence seemed companionable enough though, and when Kolivan let his hand fall to rest on his thigh, he certainly didn’t object.

After they had landed safely in the launch bay, Coran took a dobash to stretch a bit; his muscles were already stiffening, and he could tell he was going to be exceptionally sore tomorrow.  _ Well worth it,  _ he decided. As he came up from a deep bend, he realized that Kolivan was watching him with a distracted expression, the creases between his brow ridges deepening.

“Something the matter?” He arched a questioning eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Well, not exactly,” he admitted after a couple of ticks. “I have realized that I have no understanding of how you Alteans view, ah, intimate encounters.” He shifted his weight, looking endearingly uncomfortable. “I do not wish to make things awkward between us. If you want to leave what happened between us at the Mu establishment, I will not be offended.  But… if you did wish to, ah,  _ fraternize _ further..." He shrugged, crossed his arms, and cleared his throat self-consciously. "I found the experience quite restorative."

Coran grinned widely.  _ I've still got it!  _ "You don't say," he chuckled. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and leaned in toward Kolivan. He traced a finger up his sinewy forearm, then let his hand rest on Kolivan's. "Well, I'm of the firm opinion that it's important to have some adult time every so often." He added a suggestive wink for emphasis. Kolivan relaxed visibly, and huffed in amusement. "Shall we see what the youngsters are up to, then?" He straightened his jacket, and headed for the hangar doors with a spring in his step, Kolivan following close behind.

He stopped in his tracks as the hatch slid open. The emergency lights were on in the corridor, flickering ominously, and there was an acrid, smoky smell in the air. "Oh no," he breathed. Had there been accident? Had they been attacked? Surely the Paladins would have contacted him if that were the case!

"Emergency drills were not part of the planned exercises," Kolivan growled, his hackles raised.

"Indeed not. We must get to the bridge." Coran squared his shoulders, pushing frivolous thoughts aside for the time being.

The bridge was a disaster. It took Coran several ticks to process what he was seeing. The lights on every terminal were blinking, signalling malfunctions all over the ship. One of the consoles was inexplicably aflame, and Pidge was wrestling with a fire extinguisher nearly as big as she was, trying to put it out. Shiro was on the floor, his Galra prosthetic twitching wildly while Allura sat on his chest trying to stop him from hitting himself in the face. Hunk and Lance were flailing around aerosol cans of something foul-smelling, and Keith was cowering under a console, muttering to himself, clutching his knife against his chest. Everyone else was screaming, and two of Kolivan's men were tearing around clawing at their masks as though something was crawling inside them. Something, he realized with a growing sense of dread, like  _ space ants. _ They were crawling out of the vents, crawling on Shiro's arm, swarming over the control panels. They were  _ everywhere. _

"By the Ancients," he murmured in dismay.

"Coran!" Lance wailed desperately, dropping his can of what appeared to be insect repellent, and latching on to his arm. "How did you say you get rid of space ants?"

Coran had the feeling he would need that 'adult time' sooner rather than later.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
